


Acting Up

by angelsfalling16



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: Simon and Baz are actors on a tv show, but they can’t seem to get along. They are given the weekend to learn how to get along or one of them will be fired.





	1. Simon's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by someone on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you @wo2ash for beta reading!! You were a big help!

**Simon**

“Penny,” I hiss, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her off to the side. “When you told me about this show, you didn’t tell me that _he_ was the lead in it.”

“I—.”

“You also didn’t tell me that I was going to have to work with him.”

“Come on, Simon. It’s a good job. And if they like you enough, it might become a more permanent role.”

“And have to work with _him_ more? No, thank you.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Are you kidding me? Every week, he’s on the front page of a gossip magazine with some new girl, looking like the bad boy who just dates around.”

He’s just like the character that he plays in this tv show. With his long, dark hair and piercing grey eyes, he sets every girl’s heart aflutter, and then he strings them along until someone better comes along. He doesn’t actually care about any of them.

I used to believe that it was all just his character, but the more that I read about him, the more I saw that he really does act that way. Like he’s better than everyone else and could date anyone he wanted.

Of course, I had heard of this show before, and I’ve seen bits and pieces of it. I just didn’t know that it was the one that I was auditioning for a part in, and I’m pretty sure that Penny purposely kept that bit of information from me.

She doesn’t understand what I have against a guy I’ve never worked with before, but she does know how much I can’t stand Baz Pitch, which is why I don’t know why she would do this to me.

If it was just a part on the show he’s the star of, that would have been one thing, but it’s more than that. I’m supposed to be playing this guy who comes along and suddenly changes the course of his life all within three episodes. It’s almost laughable because there is no world in which Baz could ever change his personality. Or his character, I mean. There’s no way that one person could veer his life so far off course that he becomes a decent guy. That only happens in fairy tales.

“And that’s why you dislike him?” Penny asks skeptically. “Because he dates a bunch of girls?”

“What? No. B-Because he treats them like they’re replaceable, like they don’t mean anything to him. That’s awful.”

“That’s all?”

“Well he’s also tall, dark, mysterious, the bad boy of every girl’s dream.” I’m no longer sure what point I’m trying to make is because it sounds like I’m just describing him instead of giving evidence of all of his shortcomings.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes at me. “And if this was a book, he’d be the byronic hero.”

“You think he’s a hero?”

She sighs. “No, but I do think you treat him like a book character you’ve heard about from other people but haven’t actually read the book he’s in.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You don’t know anything about him, but you’ve already judged him. Maybe if you got to know him, you’d like him.”

“I highly doubt that.”

She gives me a look like she wants to argue it more, but then she seems to change her mind and settles for just shaking her head at me, which is almost just as effective.

“Fine, but you still need this job.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” I’m beginning to sound like a child pouting when they don’t get their way.

“You don’t have to like the guy in order to like the job.”

“I know.” I sigh because she’s right. I need the job, and I barely even know the guy, so it isn’t fair of me to judge him so harshly.

“You don’t even have to talk to him.”

I start to object, but she shushes me.

“I mean, you don’t have to talk to him outside of saying your lines.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Do I have a choice?” I ask, feeling just a tiny bit hopeful but knowing that it’s much too late.

“Not really.”

“Then, yes. I’ll do it.”

“Fantastic.”

I grimace. This will be far from fantastic.

***

Penny was wrong. Not only was taking this job a big mistake, but it isn’t easy to just ignore the guy that you share most of your scenes with. I can’t just ignore him, and after this morning’s run, I’m definitely going to have to talk to him outside of saying my lines. That, or get fired.

The executive producer gave us an ultimatum. Either we spend the weekend together and find a way to get along or he’ll find someone else for the job.

I’m not sure why this requires us to spend the entire time together without any separation. I mean, if we can barely spend half the day together without getting into several horrible arguments, how do they expect us to get through two full days together and make it out alive?

Maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re expecting me to quit so that they won’t have to fire me.

Well, I won’t give in, and I won’t question this decision. I refuse to quit and let Baz win, so I am at least going to try to get along with him.

We’ve been told that we have until Monday morning to find a way to work together, or else. Of course, that ‘or else’ means that I’ll be fired and replaced with someone else. Baz is one of the main characters. They can’t fire him, or there’d be a riot from his adoring fans.

I thought that I could find a way to get over how much I don’t like him, but his reaction to me was just as bad. He knows nothing about me, yet, he already appears to have made his mind up about me.

He took one look at me on my first day on set, and after making a look of disgust, he turned away and refused to make eye contact with me again until the scene we were filming called for it. Even then, he didn’t look like he was pleased by it.

We’ve only been working together for a few days, and I’m already about to get fired. And it’s all _his_ fault.

Baz Pitch, the boy of every girl’s dream, hates me.

It’s Friday afternoon, and we have basically been kicked off set because we can’t go five minutes without getting into an argument. I usually try to be professional, but something about him just gets under my skin, and I feel my emotions exploding. I should be surprised that they didn’t just fire me.

I tear a hand through my hair, frustrated. This isn’t fair. I should just quit while I’m ahead, but it was hard enough to get this job, and I need money. So, I’m just going to have to suck it up and find a way to get along with Baz.

I look at the way that he’s furiously texting someone, and I know that it’s definitely going to be easier said than done.

I lean against a wall with my arms crossed while I wait for him to finally decide to grace me with his presence. I probably haven’t be waiting all that long, but I still act like he has kept me waiting for much longer.

“Finally. Where have you been?” I’m suddenly aware of how I’m acting, like someone whose date has left them waiting for too long and is demanding to know why they were late.

He looks at me like I’m crazy, and I’m beginning to feel that way a bit. Why does he bring out this reaction in me?

He ignores my question and asks one of his own. “Are you ready to go?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I have an apartment in town,” he says, once again ignoring my question. “We can spend the weekend there and hopefully find a way to get along.”

I want to ask him why he cares. Wouldn’t it be easier for him if I just got fired? Then, he would no longer have to deal with me.

“Why at your place?” I ask, knowing that I’m only going to start yet another argument.

“Do you want to get fired?”

“No, but I don’t know why we can’t go to my place.”

“Fine, let’s do that. Where do you live?”

That’s when I remember how much of a mess and how run-down my place is. Plus, I share it with Penny, so taking Baz there probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

I sigh. “No, we’ll go to yours. I just need to go get some of my things first.”

He nods, and we walk out together not talking until he gives me his address and phone number (in case I get lost, which definitely felt like a jab at me.) Then, we part ways, which should feel nice, but I just feel weighed down with knowledge that I’m going to have to deal with his judgmental looks and snide remarks all weekend.

Luckily, Penny isn’t home when I get there, so I can get away with just leaving her a note instead of having to explain it to her in person.

She won’t be happy about this, and I’ll probably get an angry phone call tonight from her demanding to know why I didn’t tell her what was going on. But I can deal with that later.

Right now, I have to deal with Baz.

***

When Baz said that he had an apartment, I expected it to be small since  he’s the only one who lives there, but I was mistaken. It’s more like a small house, and I’m pretty sure it is at least three times the size of mine and Penny’s apartment.

He gives me a tour of the place, and I’m speechless about how nice it is. The furniture is pretty sparse, but I suppose if it’s just him living here, he doesn’t need much.

 He shows me the guest bedroom that I can sleep in before telling me to make myself at home. I’m not sure whether he wants me to stay in this room and make myself at home here or if I’m allowed to wander around his apartment.

I decide to stay in the room to avoid talking to him, so we barely talk the first night that I’m at his place. There’s so much tension between us that I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll just go off on him about absolutely nothing. That won’t do us any good, so I choose not to say anything at all.

It’s getting late, and I’d be content to stay in this room all weekend—screw the job—but I’m starving.

I open the door slowly and glance out into the hall, hoping that he’s already gone to bed so that I won’t run into him. The coast seems clear, so I quietly pad down the hall and back towards the kitchen that we passed through when Baz gave me a quick tour of the place.

He said that I was welcome to anything in it, but I feel weird digging around in his kitchen looking for food. I open the fridge, and I don’t know why, but I’m surprised to find that it’s fully stocked. There is plenty to choose from, but I don’t want to cook anything.

I zero in on something that goes great with anything, cooked or not, and pull it out. _Butter_.

“Oh,” a quiet voice says behind me, and I spin around with the tub of butter in my hand, feeling guilty for some reason. “Sorry, I just came to get something to drink.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I attempt to sound angry, or at least annoyed, but it’s undermined by the blush that creeps onto my face as he glances at the tub cradled tightly in my arms. “I-I was just going to make something to eat.”

“I can make you something.”

“Oh... No, you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of cooking for myself.”

He studies me for a moment, looking like he’s trying to come up with some kind of retort, but he seems to change his mind. “Alright. Well, goodnight.”

I notice that he leaves without the drink that he came for, and I feel a bit guilty for keeping him from it. It’s absolutely ridiculous, and I shouldn’t even care.

I shake myself, hoping to rid myself of that feeling, and return the butter to the fridge, deciding to make something else. I pull other items from the fridge, meat and cheese and grapes, and I make myself a plate of food and a glass of water, which I eat quickly while standing there at the counter.

After putting it all away, I retreat back down the hall. With a lingering glance at Baz’s closed bedroom door, I return to the guest room and climb into bed. Maybe I can just sleep all weekend. That might be nice.

***

Sleeping all weekend definitely isn’t going to work. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.

I don’t like being in new places, especially not ones where I don’t feel very welcome, and I couldn’t get my mind to shut off. I was restless all night and wanted to get up and walk around, but I was worried about running into Baz again.

It’s almost noon now, and I still haven’t left the room, not even to go the bathroom, which is now becoming a pressing matter. I tear a hand through my hair, weighing my options, but I don’t really have any. Sighing, I grab some clothes from my bag and tiptoe across the hall to the bathroom, feeling relieved when I don’t see him.

I dress as quickly as possible, and in my rush to get back across the hall, I don’t see Baz walking in my direction and crash right into him.

“Oh, sorry,” I mumble, avoiding looking up at him.

“It’s fine,” he says, bringing his hand up to steady me. “I was actually just coming to check on you.”

“Why?” I know that I sound rude, but why does he care? His hand falls away like it’s been burned, and he looks away from my glare.

“Because you’re my guest. And I made lunch if you’re hungry.”

Wow, I really am a jerk. Here I am biting his head off for no reason, and he made lunch for me. Or, he made lunch and is offering me some. Whatever. Maybe he actually wants to try to working things out between us. I should at least give him a chance.

“Okay,” I say softly, an apology for how rude I was before. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

I duck around him and into the guest room, shutting the door behind me and then leaning against it, trying to slow my racing heart.

I shouldn’t have this reaction just from bumping into him, but it doesn’t seem to be something that I can control either. I’m going to have to work harder to avoid him if I don’t want him to realize that there’s something up. And in order to do that, I’m going to have to play it cool and go eat lunch with him.

***

Lunch actually isn’t that bad. Baz and I don’t talk, but that means we don’t fight either. I’m just about to disappear back to the guest room, having had enough of the heavy silence between us, when he suggests that we go into the sitting area and watch tv and talk. I start to open my mouth to protest when he interrupts me.

“Is it really so bad to hang out with me?” For a moment, I think that he sounds a little bit hurt, but then I look up to meet his eyes and see that he just looks annoyed.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know you.”

“That’s the whole point of this weekend. We’re supposed to talk and get to know each other and find out whether we’ll be able to get along.”

“Fine,” I relent, and I find myself following him into the other room.

The only place to sit is a couch that is rather small, which means that we’ll be sitting really close to each other. Unless I sit on the floor, which seems like a good option but probably won’t win me any points with him, so I sit as far to one side as I can, and he sits on the other side. I wonder briefly why he doesn’t have a larger couch or more furniture in such a large space, but I decide that it’s none of my business. It’s his home, and he can choose to decorate it however he wants.

It’s a little slow-going and awkward at first as we search for something to talk about, but after a few failed attempts on both sides to find a topic, we finally settle on something.

I notice a picture of his family that hangs on the wall, and I ask him about them. He talks quite a bit about his younger sister, and I avoid talking about my family, or lack thereof, altogether. He talks about how he hates being far away from them, and he can’t wait until the show goes on hiatus so that he can visit them.

He actually seems like a decent guy, which makes trying to hate him more difficult. I want to hate him, but I don’t. I want to pretend like I don’t want to move closer to him and see if his hair is as soft as it looks. I want to pretend like my eyes aren’t continually drawn to his lips. I want to pretend like I’m not just another person fawning over his looks and wishing to be that person he takes out on dates around town.

I want to pretend like the real reason that I pretend not to like him isn’t to cover up how much I admire him and how jealous of those girls I am.

After we finally manage to start talking, it’s like we can’t stop. We swap stories about different sets we’ve worked on and the people we’ve worked with. Whenever he brings up one of his female coworkers, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, and my smile begins to falter. I push through it, though, because it’s starting to feel like we could actually be friends, and I really don’t want to lose this job.

I thought it would be difficult to work with him, but I’m finding that it’s even harder to be around him when we’re not working.

I’m not trying to remember my lines, and he’s not focused on anything else. His focus is solely on me, and I feel special as his warm gaze never wavers. Then, I start to wonder if he makes everyone feel this way, and that feeling comes back.

We could never be friends because I would never stop being jealous. But we can be coworkers. I can get over it enough to manage that.

***

We order pizza for dinner and eat it on the couch, laughing and talking like we’re old friends.

But I should have known that it wouldn’t last. Or, more accurately, I should have realized that I would eventually say something to screw it up.

“So, which girl did you have to blow off in order to spend sixty uninterrupted hours with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You probably had a date this weekend. You know, before you got stuck with me.”

“I didn’t get stuck with you. I actually—.”

“I guess you’ll just make it up to her next week. Or maybe you’ll have moved on to the next girl by then.”

“Wait. You think that I _want_ to go out with all of those girls?”

“Don’t you?”

“ _No_. It’s part of some publicity stunt to make everyone think that there’s a bit of my character in me.”

“They want people to think you’re a womanizer?”

He frowns, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows come together.

“No. They want me to seem charming and like all the girls love me. So, every couple of weeks, I get to go on ‘dates’ with whoever they deem fit.”

“Why don’t they just let you pick the girls you go out with? What difference would it make?”

He snorts indignantly at that. “If I were to choose who I got to go out with, it definitely wouldn’t be a girl.”

“Oh.” My heart does a little flip at that, but I try not to let on of how I feel about it. It makes me see him differently, but I don’t want him to know that. Not when we’re being forced together like this.

“I shouldn’t have told you that. You already hate me. Now, you’ve got something to take to the press.”

“What? I would never—.”

“Whatever. I guess I couldn’t keep it a secret from the public forever. I just hope it doesn’t get me fired.”

“Baz, wait,” I say as he stands up and looks as though he’s about to just walk out of the room.

He shakes his head and starts pacing back and forth across the carpet that lies between the couch I’m on and the television. He continues murmuring to himself about being stupid and about something being a mistake. He ignores me again when I try to get his attention, so I do the first thing that I can think of.

I get up off the couch, and stand in front of him, blocking his path.

“Move,” he sneers.

“No.”

“What is your problem?”

“You.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. I mean, you used to be my problem. But not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Everything. Getting to know you makes me see you differently.”

“What? You pity me now because I have to hide my identity from everyone?”

“No. I mean, yeah, that’s awful, but I get it.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand it.”

“I’m keeping a secret from my best friend. I want to tell her, but I’m afraid of how she’ll react.”

“Are you secretly in love with her and don’t know how to tell her? Because I promise you that’s not as bad as this.”

“What? No. I’m not in love with her. She has a boyfriend, and she’s the closest thing that I have to family.”

“Then, what’s your secret?”

“We just met a couple of days ago, and you want me to tell you one of my biggest secrets?”

“You know mine.”

I find that logic faulty, but I don’t say that to him. I chew on my lip for a moment, trying to decide whether I should tell him or not. He watches me, and when he opens his mouth to say something, I blurt it out.

“I like guys.”

His mouth snaps shut.

“At least I think I do.”

He frowns again. “You _think_ you do?”

“Well, I’ve never dated a guy before, but I feel the same way about them that I do about girls. I just don’t know how to tell my friend that.”

“You tell her what you just told me, and if she’s really your friend, she won’t care.”

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s all I have,” I admit.

“Now that’s just sad.” He says it like he’s trying to lighten the mood.

“Shut up,” I say with the smallest of smiles.

“Make me.”

My eyes widen, and we just stare at each other for a moment, both of us waiting for the other to move. I want to take that to mean that he wants me to kiss him, but I don’t want to be wrong. If I kiss him and he doesn’t want me to, he could probably get me kicked off of this show.

That might be for the best anyway.

The silence draws on for much too long before he seems to shake himself and turns away.

“I’m going to bed,” he murmurs. He doesn’t turn back to look at me as he walks away, and I don’t go after him.

***

Baz and I awkwardly tiptoe around each other throughout the morning, avoiding eye contact and apologizing when we move past each other even though we don’t even bump arms.

I want to retreat back to the guest room, but I also want to try to find a way to get back to how we were last night. I want to see that friendly side of Baz again. I want to bring the warmth back to his eyes and the smile back to his face. Gosh, that smile is beautiful.

I think it’s my fault that we’ve gone back to barely tolerating each other. I didn’t respond to him last night, and then, he took off.

I’m still not sure what he wanted, but I do know that silence wasn’t the right response. Now, I have to try to find a way to make things right.

“I can’t take this anymore.” I’m surprised when he’s the one who breaks the silence.

We’re sitting on the couch, and the tv isn’t even on. We’re just sitting in silence, trying not to look at each other. I look at him now but don’t say anything, so he keeps talking.

“I thought we were getting somewhere. I’m sorry about what I said last night. Can we just... Is there anyway you can forget it and we can go back to being friendly?”

“You don’t have to apologize for that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I scared you away.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re the one who walked out.”

“Because you stopped talking. I felt like a fool.”

“I was surprised. I needed a moment to process and to figure out what you meant by it.”

“I didn’t mean anything, and if I could, I would take it back.”

“Oh.” That shouldn’t hurt so much. “Okay. It’s forgotten then.”

“Thank you. So, can we go back to the way we were?”

I nod. Then, instead of just letting it go, I ask, “What do you have against me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He says, and he sounds serious.

“Ever since we met, you can barely stand to be in the same room with me.”

“That’s not true. I was having a rather pleasant time yesterday.”

“Only because you were forced to.”

“I wasn’t forced—. You know what? Never mind.” He pauses. “And what about you? You hated me before you even met me!”

“I didn’t hate you. I just—.”

“You just what?”

“I was jealous, okay?”

“Of me?”

“No!” I say, frustrated, but I’m not sure who with. Him for not understanding, or me for not being able to say this where he’ll understand. “Of those girls. And then I hated myself for being jealous because you didn’t even seem to care about them, so why would I want to be someone you didn’t mind just casting away like they were nothing? I hate that I find you attractive, and I hate that I have to lie to my best friend about it.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Of course that’s what you focus on.” I try to keep the hurt out of my voice, but I don’t think I do a very good job of it. I turn away from him so that it won’t be able to see it in my face as well.

“Wait, Simon.”

I shake my head and look away, staring hard at a point on the wall.

“Simon,” he repeats, softer this time. Then, I feel his hand underneath my chin, and he’s using two of his fingers to gently turn my face up to his. “I’m sorry that I’m so terrible at this. I-I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” I ask, and he drops his hand. I notice now that he has moved towards me on the couch, and I want him even closer.

“Talked to someone who I like. All those girls I go out with? Yeah, maybe they find me attractive, but I don’t see them that way. And maybe I’ve been attracted to guys before, but I’ve never been allowed to act on it. I had to play the boy that girls fall over themselves to get to, and I’ve never been allowed to be me.” He takes in a shaky breath, and I can see how much this has gotten to him. He really hates this part of his job. “I like you, though. The moment that you stepped foot on set, I knew that I was screwed.”

“You glared at me. I thought you were disgusted by me.”

“No. I was just mad at myself because the first thing that I noticed about you was how stunning you are with your blue eyes and messy hair.”

“You insulted my hair,” I say, smiling despite myself.

“To throw you off. I couldn’t very well compliment you in front of everyone.”

“You could have been nicer.”

“Ah, but then you might have thought I liked you.” He slides a bit closer to me as he speaks.

“No, I would have thought you were a decent human being.” I move, too, just a bit so that our hands resting on the couch nearly brush.

“Are you saying I’m a terrible person?” He asks, turning his body towards mine, so I do the same, our knees almost bumping against each other.

“I’m saying that you hid how nice you really are. You know, we could have avoided being stuck together in your apartment had you just been nice that first day.”

“Oh, so you don’t like being here.”

“I didn’t say that.” I murmur, leaning towards him.

“Good,” he says as he rests his hand on my shoulder. Then, he leans in closer to whisper in my ear, “I like you here.”

“Yeah?” I gasp, quietly reaching out to wrap my arms around his waist.

“Yes,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. “But if you don’t want to be here, you are free to go.”

He starts to pull away, truly giving me the chance to leave, but I quickly pull him back to me.

“I want to stay.” Then, I kiss him, preventing any more arguments between us. It’s soft and slow and oh, so perfect.

***

**Epilogue**

It’s been months since Baz and I kissed that first time, and we have managed to get along pretty well. Really well actually.

I’ve been made a recurring guest star on the show, and the fans seem to love our character’s dynamic. I don’t know how long I’ll be kept on the show, but I’m glad that I was able to stay. I’m even more glad that we’re a couple.

Baz still goes on those fake dates with the fans, and our relationship is still a secret to most people. It has made me a little insecure about our relationship to see him kissing other people on the show. The jealousy got even worse when the media snapped a photo of one of the girls kissing him on a fake date. It’s okay, though, because I know that none of it means anything to him.

Recently, he has been talking about stopping the fake dates, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still has to kiss the girl in the show. At least it’s only one girl now. My character did their job in changing him, making him realize that settling down with one person would be better than dating around. Maybe they could even use that for the publicity if we ever came out with our relationship. I only wonder what people would think if they found out that Baz is dating a guy.

Maybe they would do what the fans seem to want and have our characters date. It was a little overwhelming to see how much they were drawn to my character and then to watch as they began to ship our characters, even after only three episodes.

Penny took the news of our relationship surprising well. She didn’t even seem very shocked by the fact that I’m attracted to him. She said that it explained a lot, and I can’t believe that I was that obvious about how attracted I am to him. I thought that I was doing a better job to appear like I hated him. I never wanted to be one of those people who fell head over heels for a celebrity. But I never thought I had any hope that he would like me back.

He even asked me to move in with him. I told him that I’d think about it.

We’ve only been together about five months, and I don’t want to mess this up by rushing into things.

He keeps pointing out the pros of moving in with him. His place is closer to the studio, so it will be a shorter commute. We can practice our lines together. His room is big enough to hold my things. And we would be able to spend more time together.

That one usually ends with him backing me into something and kissing me soundly.

I want to give in and say yes, but I can’t just ditch Penny like that. I know that she’s been talking about moving in with her own boyfriend, and I think I might be one of the main reasons that she hasn’t yet. It still wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t at least talk to her about it first.

I’m almost certain that she would be fine with me moving in with Baz, which is why the next time that he asks me, I start to give in.

He’s got me pushed up against his kitchen counter with his arms wrapped tightly around me, and he’s in the process of trailing kisses along my jaw and down my neck when he asks me again to move in with him.

“You would have to tell people about us,” I tell him.

“It’s about time,” he murmurs into my neck.

“You would have to stop going on all those fake dates,” I say, albeit breathlessly.

“How unfortunate,” he smiles against my ear.

“You would have to…” I try to come up with something else to stall, but I can’t. I really do want to move in with him. I’m just nervous.

I love him, and I don’t want to lose him. I haven’t said those three words to him — it’s too early — but I do feel that way about him.

“Simon,” he says quietly, leaning back to look at me. “I will do whatever and tell whoever you want me to. I want to be with you, and I want you to move in with me.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” He asks, sounding truly surprised.

“Yes,” I say with a laugh. “I would love to move in with you. I’ll just need some time to tell Penny.”

“That’s fine.”

I want to say it now. I want to tell him how much he means to me, tell him that I love him, but it isn’t time. The time will come eventually, but for now, I settle for just kissing him and holding him close to me.


	2. Baz's POV

**Baz**

I was a little excited when they said that they were bringing someone new onto the show. I thought that it would be fun to have someone new join the cast, however short their time here was. I’m afraid that I may have been mistaken, and those fears are proved right when one of the producers of the show comes over to talk to me Friday afternoon after one of the worst days of filming we’ve ever had.

“Baz, we wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“On what?”

“The new guy. Simon Snow.”

I glance over at the person he’s referring to. The boy with golden hair that reminds me of the sun and captivating blue eyes.

It’s true that we haven’t been getting along, and I had hoped that it would get better. But we’ve been working together for almost a week, and it just keeps getting worse.

That first day on set I thought that things would go well, but then I saw him. He was stunning and gorgeous, and as soon as he spoke to me, I knew that I was going to be screwed. I knew that I was going to fall for him, and I had to turn away from him to hide the blush that I could feel creeping up on face.

What I didn’t know was that we wouldn’t be able to get along, no matter how attractive I thought he was.

“What about him?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from where someone is touching up his makeup.

“We aren’t sure that things are going to work with him. If we don’t get any good shots today, we’ll have to let him go.

“Is he really that bad?”

“Yes and no. There’s no doubt that he’s a pretty decent actor, but you two don’t seem to be getting along.”

“So, you’re firing him?” I ask, glancing at the boy again.

“We haven’t decided yet. We wanted to know if there was something that you thought you could do to try to smooth things over. He fits the character perfectly, and we want to keep him on. But if he doesn’t work well with the other actors, with _you_ , then he isn’t right for the show.

“Give me the weekend,” I say, getting an idea.

“What?”

“I think that if he and I had some time to get to know each other better, we might be able to work this out. Give me the weekend to talk to him and try to work with him. If things don’t go well, you can fire him if you want. But you’re right, he’s a good actor. I would hate to lose him.”

The producer appears to be thinking this over. I know it’s unprecedented, but if there’s a chance, I’ll take it. There is just something about Simon Snow. He makes me want to take a chance, to risk everything to see if he’s a good fit. And not just for the show.

“Okay,” he says finally. “First thing Monday morning, he either comes in here willing to work with you, or he’s out.”

“Thank you.”

As I watch him walk away, I let out a shaky breath. What have I gotten myself into? How am I supposed to get Snow to talk to me, let alone spend the weekend with me, when he truly seems to hate me?

I don’t know what I’ve done to make Simon dislike me so much, but I am going to try to fix this. I just have to figure out how.

_Lying_. That’s how. It’s not much different than acting, and if it will save his job, it will be worth it.

I’ll just tell him that we have been given the choice to either find a way to work together or there will be consequences. I won’t tell him my role in this plan because he’d probably reject it, so he has to think that it came from higher up.

I will tell him that I have been told that we have to spend the weekend together and that it will be best if we stay over at one of our places so that we will have as much time as possible together, and we have to find a way to be friends at the end if we want to keep our jobs. Or, if not friends, at least friendly acquaintances who can be in the same room without snapping at each other.

***

Simon takes it surprisingly well. I thought that he would at least attempt to fight it a little or even ask to talk to someone about it, but he doesn’t do either of those things. He doesn’t look happy though.

I step aside for a moment to talk to someone before we leave, and Snow glares at the floor the entire time. Maybe this won’t be as easy as I thought it would. I thought he would actually want to save his job, but I could be wrong.

Trying to put off going over to him for just a little bit longer before we have to spend the weekend together, I pull out my phone and text Dev and Niall. We had plans to meet up on Saturday, but it looks like we’ll have to cancel them. I quickly fill them in on what’s going on before I walk over to Simon.

“Finally,” he says before I can say anything. “Where have you been?”

He sounds angry and more than a little annoyed. I think that I was definitely wrong about all of this. This weekend will not be pleasant, and I’m no longer certain that I’ll be able to make it through alive.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask him, trying to be pleasant in the face of his anger.

We talk details as we walk out to the parking lot. We agree to meet up at my apartment, so I give him my address and phone number in case he needs help finding the place. It’s a little bit out of the way, and I got lost a couple of times when I first moved in.

I’m trying to be nice, but he still just looks angry.

We part ways, and I head to my apartment, hoping to get there and have enough time to tidy up a bit before he arrives. My apartment isn’t a big mess, but I don’t usually have a lot of company, so it also isn’t the cleanest. Plus, the guest room goes mostly unused, so there aren’t even any sheets on the bed.

I quickly set about putting things away and making the bed, and I’m thankful that I had someone pick up groceries for me today. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be any food for us to eat.

When there’s finally a knock on the door, my heart is racing with nerves and anticipation. I open the door, and I’m pleased to find that he doesn’t look too angry anymore.

I give him a quick tour of my apartment, telling him that he’s welcome to anything in the kitchen, and I show him the way to the guest room, across the hall from the bathroom.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell him

“Thanks,” he murmurs before turning and shutting himself in the guest room.

I wait a couple of minutes to see if he’ll come back out and talk or something, but when he doesn’t, I start to feel a bit creepy standing outside the door. I wait one more minute just in case, but then I decide to give him some space for the night. We can try to work things out in the morning, and he knows where I am if he needs anything.

***

It’s a while later before I hear the guest room door open with a loud creak. I consider getting up and going to see if he’s alright, but that might be weird, so I stay put.

When I hear noise coming from the kitchen, I decide that I’ll just go in and check on him, see if he needs anything. I can at least attempt to start a conversation.

I walk to the kitchen, and I find him looking through the fridge for something to eat. In the soft glow of the light coming from the fridge, he appears to glow.

“Oh,” I breathe. He hears me and quickly spins around face me. “Sorry. I, uh, I just came to get something to drink.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He asks.

I look at the tub of butter in his hand curiously. He’s holding it like he’s afraid that I’ll take it away from him. His face turns a delicate shade of red as he notices my gaze.

“I-I was just going to make something to eat,” he says, like he feels as though he has to explain himself.

“I can make you something,” I offer.

“Oh... No, you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of cooking for myself.”

He still sounds defensive, and I realize that this was a bad idea coming out here. Maybe the whole weekend was a bad idea. I should have just let him get fired.

I tried to be nice. I tried to make things work. He seems to insist on fighting me every step of the way, and I’m not sure why I’m even trying.

Because I’m attracted to him? That is a ridiculous reason. If he doesn’t want to attempt to make nice, then maybe I’m done trying.

***

After staying up all night trying to figure out what on earth I could have done to piss off Simon, I’ve come up with nothing. From the moment he stepped foot on set, he has had something against me. I don’t have any clue what I could have possibly done to upset him, but I’m determined to try to make things right.

I know that last night I was ready to give up, but I don’t want to spend this weekend not even attempting to make things better between us. I can’t give up that easily. That would be a waste of both of our times. Plus, he can’t ignore me forever. He’ll eventually have to come out of his room to eat again.

I spend the morning in my room, giving him some time alone, and then I decide that I’ll make us lunch. I’ll make him some food as a peace offering of sorts and hope that it eases the tension between us.

As I cook, I keep thinking that he’ll come out of his room, but I don’t hear any noise at all. The house is deathly quiet. By the time lunch is ready, I’ve convinced myself that he left in the middle night and that if I open the door to the guest room, it will be like he was never there. If he really did leave, I suppose that means that he dislikes me so much that he’s willing to risk losing his job. I can’t believe that he detests me so much.

I turn the burners underneath the food down to low and decide to go look. If he’s gone, he’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about it. I just have to know.

I move to the hall, and just as I reach the guest room, the door to the bathroom opens. Simon walks out, and he isn’t watching where he’s going, so he walks right into me.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbles, staring at the ground.

“It’s fine,” I tell him, and without thinking about it, I bring my hand up to his arm to make sure he’s alright. “I was actually just coming to check on you.”

“Why?” He sneers.

I immediately let go of him, feeling the anger come off of him. I look away, tired of this already. Why can’t we just get along?

“Because you’re my guest. And I made lunch if you’re hungry.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice softer this time.

The anger seems to be gone from his voice now, and I begin to wonder if it’s all just a mask, if he’s pretending not to like me for some reason. If that’s the case, maybe there’s a chance for us after all.

I return to the kitchen to plate the food, and when he joins me, we sit at the small table that I mostly use when I’m writing. I rarely ever eat at it, and it’s a little awkward as we sit there together. We’re quiet as we eat, but it isn’t the tense silence from before. It’s something different.

I take this as a sign of Simon softening towards me and suggest that we move to the sitting room when we’re done eating. I’m almost surprised when he agrees after barely putting up a fight. He doesn’t look happy about being stuck with me, but at least he’s here.

He even makes several attempts to start a conversation, which don’t go so well at first, but eventually, he asks about my family and that gets us somewhere. I feel a pang in my chest from missing them, but it’s nice to be able to talk to someone about them.

He doesn’t seem to want to talk about his own family when I ask, and I don’t push him. I know that family life isn’t always great, and I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by asking too many questions.

As the conversation continues and moves on to new topics, it’s like a wall comes down. He seems to become more comfortable and opens up a bit more. The anger and dislike he wore like a cape before is all but gone.

We talk through the rest of the afternoon and dinner before things start to get a little touchy. I knew that we would eventually talk about something that ended in an argument, but I guess I had hoped that it would last a little longer.

“So, which girl did you have to blow off in order to spend sixty uninterrupted hours with me?” He asks, leaning back into the couch.

“What do you mean?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. I didn’t blow off anyone. I cancelled plans with friends, but that was it.

“You probably had a date this weekend. You know, before you got stuck with me.”

“I didn’t get stuck with you. I actually—.” I begin to tell him the truth, however stupid that may be, but he cuts me off like he didn’t even hear me.

“I guess you’ll just make it up to her next week. Or maybe you’ll have moved on to the next girl by then.”

“Wait. You think that I _want_ to go out with all of those girls?” I thought people knew that it was all pretend. I didn’t think anyone actually believed it, but I guess if no one believed it, there wouldn’t be any point in continuing it.

“Don’t you?”

“ _No_. It’s part of some publicity stunt to make everyone think that there’s a bit of my character in me.”

“They want people to think you’re a womanizer?”

I frown, not sure why he thinks that.

“No. They want me to seem charming and like all the girls love me. So, every couple of weeks, I get to go on ‘dates’ with whoever they deem fit.”

“Why don’t they just let you pick the girls you go out with? What difference would it make?”

That idea nearly makes me laugh. As if I would willingly choose to go out on a date with a girl.

“If I were to choose who I got to go out with, it definitely wouldn’t be a girl.”

“Oh.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and he looks horrified by what I said. It takes me a moment to realize that I have made a big mistake. He just stares at me, and I start to feel sick.

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” I say, more to myself than to him. “You already hate me. Now, you’ve got something to take to the press.”

I feel myself begin to panic as I realize that this was all a very bad idea. If it gets out that I’m gay… I don’t know. I don’t know what will happen, but I always wanted to have the choice to come out on my own. I didn’t want to be outed by someone who hates me.

“What? I would never—.”

“Whatever,” I say, feeling the backs of my eyes burn as I get angry at myself for not just keeping my mouth shut. “I guess I couldn’t keep it a secret from the public forever. I just hope it doesn’t get me fired.”

“Baz, wait,” he says.

I shake my head, ignoring him, as I stand up and start pacing back and forth across the room. I can’t believe that I could be so stupid. Did I honestly think that I could trust him with that information? Or did I just want to believe that I could trust him, that maybe he understood what it was like? I think my stupid crush on him may have just gotten me into trouble.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of me, both of his hands raised like he’s prepared to physically stop me.

“Move,” I sneer.

“No.”

“What is your problem?” I ask. Now I’m the one who’s angry.

“You.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, you used to be my problem. But not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Everything. Getting to know you makes me see you differently.”

“What? You pity me now because I have to hide my identity from everyone?”

“No. I mean, yeah, that’s awful, but I get it.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand it,” I tell him.

“I’m keeping a secret from my best friend. I want to tell her, but I’m afraid of how she’ll react.”

“Are you secretly in love with her and don’t know how to tell her? Because I promise you that’s not as bad as this.” I try to step around him, but he stops me again.

“What? No. I’m not in love with her. She has a boyfriend, and she’s the closest thing that I have to family.”

“Then, what’s your secret?” I ask, even though I know that it’s not really any of my business. But he did just find out mine, and maybe if he tells me his, if he trusts me with it, that means he won’t go telling people about mine.

“We just met a couple of days ago, and you want me to tell you one of my biggest secrets?”

“You know mine.”

He’s quiet for a long minute, and I start to think that I was wrong. I’m about to tell him to just forget it when he says it.

“I like guys” He pauses for a brief moment before adding, “At least I think I do.”

“You _think_ you do?” I frown. I know what it’s like to question that. There are still times when I start to wonder about my own attraction. But right now, I’m more afraid that he’s just saying that to try to make amends. I really hope not, though.

“Well, I’ve never dated a guy before,” he explains, “but I feel the same way about them that I do about girls. I just don’t know how to tell my friend that.”

“You tell her what you just told me, and if she’s really your friend, she won’t care.” I don’t know why I’m helping him. Except that I want to believe him, and I want things to be right between us.

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s all I have.”

“Now that’s just sad,” I say in what I hope is a teasing tone.

“Shut up,” he says, biting back a smile, and my eyes catch on the way his lip looks between his teeth.

“Make me.”

Everything seems to slow as the words fall from my mouth and just hang between us.

Simon looks shocked, and my heart begins to race as I make yet another mistake. I really should stop saying things with such impulsivity. Things were just starting to be pleasant between us, and I screwed it up again.

He still doesn’t respond, and I decide to just walk away so that he doesn’t feel like he has to say something.

“I’m going to bed,” I murmur before turning away.

A part of me hopes that he’ll try to stop me, but he doesn’t, so I just go to my room and crawl into bed, wishing that I could stay there forever.

***

Simon doesn’t hide in his room all morning the next day like I thought he would. He comes out early and we eat breakfast together in silence, and that silence continues, growing heavier as time passes until we found ourselves once again seated on the couch in my sitting room.

It doesn’t take long for me to snap. So what if I said something stupid yesterday? We can still attempt to be friends again, right? I have to at least try.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I say finally, turning to where he’s sitting on the opposite side of the couch, as far away from me as he can get. “I thought we were getting somewhere. I’m sorry about what I said last night. Can we just... Is there any way you can forget it and we can go back to being friendly?”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I scared you away.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re the one who walked out.”

“Because you stopped talking. I felt like a fool.”

“I was surprised. I needed a moment to process and to figure out what you meant by it.”

“I didn’t mean anything, and if I could, I would take it back.” I don’t actually want to take it back, but I feel like saying that is the best way to fix this. If he thinks I didn’t mean it, maybe it will be easier for him to move on.

“Oh. Okay. It’s forgotten then.”

“Thank you. So, can we go back to the way we were?”

He nods and is quiet for a few seconds. Then, he asks what I have against him, and I’m not sure what he’s talking about and tell him as much.

“Ever since we met, you can barely stand to be in the same room with me,” he says.

“That’s not true,” I tell him. “I was having a rather pleasant time yesterday.”

“Only because you were forced to.”

“I wasn’t forced—,” I begin but decide better of it. “You know what? Never mind. And what about you? You hated me before you even met me!”

“I didn’t hate you. I just—.”

“You just what?”

“I was jealous, okay?”

“Of me?” I ask, a little surprised by that answer.

“No! Of those girls. And then I hated myself for being jealous because you didn’t even seem to care about them, so why would I want to be someone you didn’t mind just casting away like they were nothing? I hate that I find you attractive, and I hate that I have to lie to my best friend about it.”

He’s rambling, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“You think I’m attractive?” I ask.

“Of course that’s what you focus on.” He sounds upset, and I hurry to try to fix it.

“Wait, Simon.”

He shakes his head and looks away, and I can feel him slipping away.

“Simon,” I repeat, softer this time. When he still doesn’t respond, I move closer to him on the couch and reach out to turn his face so that he’s looking at me again.

“I’m sorry that I’m so terrible at this,” I tell him.” I-I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” He asks, and when it doesn’t look like he’s going to look away from me again, I drop my hand.

“Talked to someone who I like. All those girls I go out with? Yeah, maybe they find me attractive, but I don’t see them that way. And maybe I’ve been attracted to guys before, but I’ve never been allowed to act on it. I had to play the boy that girls fall over themselves to get to, and I’ve never been allowed to be me.” I take in a breath, hating how it shakes, before saying, “I like you, though. The moment that you stepped foot on set, I knew that I was screwed.”

“You glared at me. I thought you were disgusted by me.”

“No. I was just mad at myself because the first thing that I noticed about you was how stunning you are with your blue eyes and messy hair.”

He doesn’t look like he really believes me, but it’s true. If anything, I was disgusted with myself because one look at him, and I could feel myself falling for him. I did everything that I could not to stare at him that first day, which I guess could have been seen as me not looking at him at all now that I think about it.

“You insulted my hair.”

“To throw you off. I couldn’t very well compliment you in front of everyone.” And I didn’t insult it exactly. I just said something about it looking like he needed to go see the hair stylist.

Okay, I can see how that might have been rude.

“You could have been nicer.”

“Ah, but then you might have thought I liked you.” I say, moving closer to him, and when he responds, he moves closer, too.

“No, I would have thought you were a decent human being.”

“Are you saying I’m a terrible person?” I ask, turning to face him better, and he mirrors my movement.

“I’m saying that you hid how nice you really are. You know, we could have avoided being stuck together in your apartment had you just been nice that first day.”

“Oh, so you don’t like being here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good,” I say, bringing my hand up to tentatively rest on his shoulder. He doesn’t do anything to push me away, so I lean in closer and whisper in his ear, “I like you here.”

“Yeah?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me.

“Yes.” I pause and press a soft kiss to his cheek, hoping that I haven’t taken it too far. “But if you don’t want to be here, you are free to go.”

I pull away to give Simon the chance to leave. I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to stay. We can still find a way to be friendlier on set even if he doesn’t want to take this thing between us further. It hurts a bit to be letting him go.

Before I can move very far, he’s pulling me back to him and saying, “I want to stay.” Then, he gives me a brilliant smile, and I want to kiss him. But I don’t want to mess things up by making the wrong move again, so I let him be the one to close the distance.

When his lips meet mine, they’re soft and hesitant as if he is just as worried about doing this wrong as I am. I return the kiss, adding just a little bit of pressure, and he takes that as a sign to deepen the kiss. He’s really good at this. He does this thing with his chin, moving it up and down, as he pushes me back against the couch, and it’s perfect.

It is so much better than arguing. Why on earth were we wasting time with things like that when we could have been doing this instead?

***

**Epilogue**

After that first kiss with Simon, I never wanted to stop. Luckily, I haven’t had to. We’ve been going steady for several months now, and things have been going surprising well. While the arguing hasn’t completely ceased, it doesn’t happen as often anymore.

Things have been pleasant between us on set, and we spend quite a bit of time together off set. I’ve been to his place a few times, and he introduced me to his his best friend, Penelope, after we had been going out for a couple of weeks.

She seemed suspicious of me at first, but she has seemed to warm up to me. I rather like her actually, and I was happy for Simon when Penelope didn’t seem to mind who he liked. She did seem to mind that I was still going on dates with other people, though, and I know that it has bothered Simon, too. But that is all changing now.

Today, I told the show producers and my publicist that I would no longer go on those fake dates, and they wanted to know why it was that I’ve suddenly changed my mind. I wanted to tell them about me and Simon, our relationship, but I couldn’t do that without talking to him first. Going public with our relationship is a decision that we have to make together. So is moving in together.

I want Simon to come live me, but he still seems to be hesitant. I know that he can’t just leave his friend, but I’m beginning to wonder if there is some other reason for him not to want to move in with me.

I’ve tried to make the place more comfortable for him. When he voiced concerns about the lack of furniture in such a large space, we made a day of going out shopping together. Of course, that wasn’t an easy thing to do when we kept running into fans who wanted to take pictures with the two of us, and we ended up going back to my place to just do some online shopping.

My publicist loved it, though. She said that it was a really great stunt to make the fans think that we’re friends in real life just like we are on the show. I tried to tell her that we really are friends, but I’m not sure she believed it.

No one on set believes that we actually managed to become friends that weekend. If only they knew that we are so much more than that. If only they knew that I was in love with him.

But Simon doesn’t even know that, so there is no way that I’m telling anyone about it. I want to tell him, but I’m waiting until it feels like the right time. I want to wait until I know for sure that he’s all in like I am, and part of that is getting him to move in with me.

We’re at my apartment now, and I’ve got him pushed up against the counter in my kitchen as the food we’re making for dinner cooks on the stove. I drag my mouth along his jaw, and when I reach his ear, I say, “Move in with me, Simon.”

His hands tighten on my hips briefly before he says, “You would have to tell people about us.”

I take that as a good sign. He hasn’t said no yet, like he did the first couple of times that I asked. I move to kiss down the side of his neck.

“About time,” I murmur, glad that he can’t see the smile on my face.

“You would have to stop going on all those fake dates.” His voice is breathless as I bite down on his neck, leaving a mark there.

“How unfortunate,” I say, moving up to whisper in his ear. I don’t say that I’ve already made that happen. I’ll tell him later. Right now, I just want to enjoy this.

“You would have to…” He drifts off, thinking.

“Simon,” I say, and I lean back so that I can see his face. “I will do whatever and tell whoever you want me to. I want to be with you, and I want you to move in with me.”

“Okay,” he says, and I’m almost certain that I didn’t hear him right.

I’ve been trying to convince him to move in with me for weeks, and I was beginning to give up on the idea that he ever would.

“Really?” I try not to sound too excited, but it means a lot that he actually wants to live with me.

“Yes,” he says with a grin that threatens to make my heart stop beating. “I would love to move in with you. I’ll just need some time to tell Penny.”

“That’s fine.”

This feels like the moment. I should tell him that I love him, but I don’t want to scare him off. I just got him to agree to move in with me. I’m afraid that if he finds out how deep my feelings are for him that he’ll run for the hills, and I’ll lose him.

So, I keep it in. I tuck those words away for later use, and I let him kiss me as I comb my fingers through his hair. I sigh against his lips, and I know that this will last. No matter how much Simon and I argue, it would take a lot to tear us apart.


End file.
